Super 8

Bomb Rating: 

Abrams left out the mega-cool weaponry, mildly disturbing co-ed shower scene and surprisingly soap opera-friendly cast that made "Starship Troopers" an instant classic, opting to instead replace those elements with acne-ridden teenage fatties, little girls with daddy issues and a dead mom.

The year is 1979.  It's small-town America.  And you're bored.  For the next two hours, this is your fate, because you had a moment of weakness and bought a ticket to see "Super 8."

Let me get this out of the way:  I hate all movies starring kids.  It doesn't matter how old they are, the simple fact is toddlers, tweens and teenagers are all mega-fucking-annoying when placed in front of a camera as anything other than background scenery.  But you know what's even worse than kids?  When auteur director's try to relive their own shitty childhoods through the magic of derivative sci-fi plots starring cookie-cutter aliens.

Apparently, if you crashed-landed your ship on Earth and ended up in 1970's America, the first thing you would do is steal 30 fucking microwaves, because everyone knows that this is exactly where General Electric has been hiding weapons-grade photon accelerators and dilithium crystals since they managed to fill up warehouse at Area 51 in 1968.  It would also appear that director J.J. Abrams didn't have time to concoct a believable-looking alien of his own, so he just rented "Starship Troopers" and stole Paul Verhoeven's fever dream spider-creatures, even copying their ability to communicate as touch-telepaths.  Of course, Abrams left out the mega-cool weaponry, mildly disturbing co-ed shower scene and surprisingly soap opera-friendly cast that made "Starship Troopers" an instant classic, opting to instead replace those elements with acne-ridden teenage fatties, little girls with daddy issues and a dead mom.

Sounds like a winner, right?  Well, yeah, in the sense that lying in a pool of your own piss and vomit is a winning strategy when you pass out behind the shed at your old high school Saturday night and your friends abandon you to the coyotes.  That is to say, it's not really a "winning" strategy but rather the "only" strategy when you don't have the tools to escape the hand life has dealt you.  It's actually surprising that producer Steven Spielberg didn't descend from his hovering ivory palace and slap Abrams in the face for blatantly stealing so many of his original concepts and then making them suck.  I guess after working with George Lucas for so many years, you just kind of expect that to happen.

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